Are you gonna be mad at people just because they have lives and you don’t?

Ahh, yes, I’m talking to myself. I should really learn to draw the line between cynicism and jealousy, because most of the time I claim it’s the former, when in fact, it’s the latter.

In my defense, it is quite harder for me to, for lack of better words, get a life, due to reasons I’m not gonna enumerate for the fear of it making me miserable again. But if you’re really curious, I’ve been ranting about it in this blog my whole life, so yes, it’s a mixture of everything.

It’s gonna stop sucking someday. It has to.

Reflections on The Passion of the Christ

I haven’t watched this movie recently, but today, I decided to, because it’s Good Friday, and it turns out it’s just what I need for now to reflect on things.

“Shelter me, O Lord. I trust in You. In You I take refuge,” is something I should remember every time sin clouds over me, because every time I choose sin over His love and what He has done, I take part in his crucifixion.

“No man can carry this burden alone,” said the devil. But Jesus is not an ordinary man. Whenever we resist temptation though, we are men burdened by it. But the thing is, we have God, we have the Holy Spirit, to give us the strength to say no to this. So we are not in this burden alone.

“Let Your will be done, not mine.” I personally have a hard time accepting this. Mom says, according to Romans, that all things work for good to those who love Him, but it’s hard to accept how dad’s cancer, how our financial meltdown, how all our other crises in life, can work out for good when it all seemingly leads to downfall. I was reminded of something a professor posted on Facebook. “Don’t you worry, don’t you worry, child; see, heaven’s got a plan for you? Heaven’s plan is more important than yours.” This is the part I’m struggling with – to trust, have faith in God’s plan, that even though it does not benefit my earthly form, I am actually part of something bigger, and eternal, but only if I will let him work through me, by letting His will be done, to be humble enough to submit to His will. Yup, definitely have to work on that.

It’s amazing how God can be everywhere – even in television. Parents think technology has exerted a more negative influence than positive on our generation, but it has actually helped me strengthen my spirituality. Visual representations can help us reflect on how it can be applied into our own lives, can effectively remind us of things we have managed to forget. Remember how Jesus just stepped on the snake without hesitation? I wish I can do that whenever temptations loom around.

Our God is a god who was beaten and crucified to death. Our God is a god for the sinners. He is truly an amazing God.

Lesson learned: never eat microwave popcorn in your room. They’re the best rat attractants. It happened to me twice already, and I figured it’s because the smell lingers.

Damn. I had a chance to kill that small, black rat a few weeks ago but I literally pitied it because I know it can feel pain. We figured there’s not a lot of them here. In fact, it’s only one and he just manages to roam around the house. He hasn’t grown and he’s still small. He hasn’t brought his friends here either because he’s the same size and lives in the same area of the house and does the same things.

Yes, I feel sorry for living things which can feel pain. Plus, I find anything furry cute. If only I could find a way to sterilize that rat and if only he didn’t come from sewers or canals and doesn’t carry diseases or pathogens… I’d keep him.

Cynicism is poisonous. Try appreciating. It might look nicer on you.

Actually, it’s me. I’m cynical, about everything. And I think it stems from jealousy and envy, which are even more dangerous. At least some cynical people are really cynical. But some people won’t be cynical if they have the object they’re being cynical about. Like me.

Ahh, I’m screwed. Thank goodness I have a chance at a fresh start.

I’m only realizing now how discipline is a really important aspect of one’s life. It really does keep you on track, right on the road. I haven’t been disciplining myself, what with all the crap that’s happening, and I keep on justifying that I have the right to not discipline myself, thanks to all the crap. But look where it got me – lost. (And no, I’m not wandering either).

For example, I don’t control what I eat or when I eat anymore. I don’t exercise and I don’t care about my health or fitness. I eat veggies, but only because I feel bloated and heavy when it’s all meat (but I don’t have a serious problem with this, since I don’t like red meat too much anyway). There are also a lot of things I lost control of, just because I thought it would relieve me of burden.

It didn’t. Now I’m just lost.

But I guess that’s the first step: admitting it.  Now I have to find my way back.

What I’m most ashamed of

What’s advantageous about this blog is the anonymity. I can say whatever I want to and just delete the post or delete the blog altogether if it becomes out of hand (but seriously, I dunno what that post would be about). It started out that way – me wanting to find some other place to vent all my candid thoughts out where no one would judge me. And then I found out WordPress doesn’t work that way. It’s actually a community of active writers, people who find you if they have the same interests, which is good. Although now, I’m hesitating a bit on the candid part. It is true – you become more of a person with others. And even though no one who follows me or reads my blog actually knows me personally (unless you are a really skillful stalker), I feel the need to be cautious on what I blog about.

I thought about that because of what I was about to write: I used to slash. Yep, as in slash your wrists, slash your legs, slash any part of you which would be covered by clothes, so people don’t see it and ask unnecessary questions which you’d have to shy away from. And then I remembered how people think others do it to gain attention, but the thing is, no one knows me here on WordPress, so the attention is futile. What I want to say is that I understand why or how it happens, at least one way it does.

My brother was the first to do it. He has clinical depression, and thanks to what’s happening in the family, it’s not exactly making his condition better. When my mom first found out, she was horrified beyond words. She despaired for nights about it. To cut it short, I did it, just to see what all the fuss was about. I’m not defending or supporting the idea, but it did give me an adrenaline rush. It makes you feel powerful, maybe it makes you feel assured that only you can hurt yourself, or you can use it as weapon to tell people who should be loving you to actually love you, instead of hurting you. It gives you the power to inflict fear in people who love you, to make them bow to your will.

Well, that’s a pretty… graphic way to put it. I regretted it the moment I did it, but it didn’t stop. Soon, I was getting addicted to it. Whenever my dad said something that really hurt, or something that triggered other painful thoughts, I did it. My brother did, too. The worst scars I have are on my leg. That was the first time dad had a seizure, and he had to undergo craniotomy to have an abscess removed. I didn’t slash because I was hurt about him and the possibility of him being gone. It was my birthday during that time, and I spent the whole of my semester break in the hospital with him, while my friends were vacationing abroad. But that wasn’t what triggered the slashing. I was hurt because even at that condition, he could still say and do such horrible things, things I wouldn’t dare recount for the fear of old hurt and anger bubbling up again, but for someone who could die any second, he was nowhere near forgiving, thankful or apologetic.

Now there are four slash scars on my legs, and every time I see it, I feel ashamed. Ashamed because I let thoughts of anger and pain be channeled into hurting myself, instead of towards something else. Ashamed because I was too weak to stop myself, that even though I confessed to be a Christian, I was not acting like one.

I have resolved this problem. There was just one day when I realized and promised that I would try and do my best to love my father unconditionally. This is not a joke – he is seriously one of the hardest patients ever. He doesn’t listen to doctors, and the ironic thing is, I’m going to med school this year. But yes. Sometimes, I still have bouts of anger. I would grit my teeth and go to my room and play Flappy Bird.

But that was the last time I slashed. And that was October 2013.

It’s April 2014 now.

I know it’s unhealthy to cry over spilled milk, especially to lament the loss of material valuables almost a year ago. Last June 2013, my bag with everything – laptop, iPad mini, wallet, phone, my very first iPod (iPod shuffle) and all the trash in it – got stolen. In school. Which is supposed to be highly protected considering we pay the one of the highest tuition fees in the country. I mourned back then that I never got to experience iOS7 (LOL), will never get to show the very first iPod shuffle to my future grandkids, and my laptop. Don’t even let me begin on that.

Okay, it was a nice laptop. Not very expensive, since my dad got it secondhand. It was a Dell Vostro V13, and it was one of the slim ones to be released. It was very lightweight, and I planned to invest in having it fixed and its battery replaced. Plus, I just bought a new charger for it, which was also in the bag. I mourned for it because I wanted to use it for med school. It would be so handy, because I’d be carrying some heavy books come this June. But a lot of my memories are also in there.

For example, one of the stories I was working on back then was saved in that laptop. I had archived the rest of the story on the internet, but only until Chapter 12. So Chapter 1 to 11 are lost in the virtual world forever.

And my pictures. They were so freaking organized. I never owned a hard drive, so it went down with it.

Sigh. This is why the written word has a higher chance of survival come urban decay.